


Baby Steps

by Embergleam



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Bayverse was a trainwreck and I'm gonna fix it, Bayverse without the gross, Bitty Tessa, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Growing Up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4338503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Embergleam/pseuds/Embergleam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another universe the Yeager family encounters the Autobots before everything goes to hell. Raising children, it turns out, is challenging no matter what species you belong to.</p>
<p>(Or, the 'Tessa is twelve and doesn't afraid of anything' AU, ft. babysitter Bumblebee and Uncle Optimus.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Days Go By

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OniGil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OniGil/gifts), [vienn_peridot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/gifts).



> Full-autopsy and adhesivesandscrap were tossing ideas about a kid!Tessa AU around. I got swarmed with plotbunnies and decided to do something about them. This is it. Expect slice-of-life moments from a younger and more responsibly-raised Tessa's childhood, featuring various Autobots as my whims dictate. With any luck the happy chapters will outweigh the sad ones.
> 
> This is the first piece I've ever posted on AO3, so bear with me. 
> 
> (Spoilers: I have no fucking clue what I'm doing.)

Tessa is three years old when Erica Yeager dies. 

She doesn’t remember the sickening impact of flesh on glass. She can’t recall the squeal of tires, the shredding shriek of metal parting company, the ugly snap of bone giving way. Maybe she’s concussed, or perhaps her memory is merciful. Either way she stumbles away from the twisted wreckage of a once perfectly serviceable sedan with nothing more than an aching head and a dull impression of loss and power intimately intertwined.

She doesn’t remember the hospital either. She’s spared the horrors of the ER by a kindly nurse’s timely intervention. The tired-eyed woman steers her into the waiting area with the ease of long practice, chattering all the while about the latest happenings on Sesame Street. It’s precisely the distraction Tessa needs. Primary colors and scented markers drown out fears too vast and shapeless for her to fully comprehend. For one blessed hour she forgets to be afraid. 

By the time Cade tears himself away from his wife’s side their daughter is sound asleep. They spend an uncomfortable night on plastic chairs in the waiting room. By some mercy Tessa is still out cold when an orderly touches Cade’s shoulder, informs him a pastor’s been summoned. 

She’s just beginning to stir when Erica’s pulse peters out.

She doesn’t remember the funeral, and someday she’ll be grateful for that. Better to remember her mother as snapshot vignettes of fiery hair and laughter sweet as morning birdsong. She was light and joy and freedom, not a closed casket and a raw wound in cemetery sod.

No, Tessa doesn’t remember much, but one image haunts her long after the initial nightmares fade.

She remembers padding down the hallway long after bedtime, bare feet whispering over worn linoleum, Freckles the teddy bear dangling from one hand, and watching her father sob.

It’s dark in that cramped kitchen, and quiet, and something uncomfortably like guilt coils snakelike in her gut as the seconds tick by. Her daddy is her hero, her knight in shining armor, vanquisher of monsters and bullies and things that go bump in the night. He can’t cry.

He can’t cry, because if he does she might to. 

It’s dark, and quiet, and all too soon Tessa’s three-year-old willpower breaks. She scrambles across the cramped kitchen in a flurry of feet and My Little Pony pajamas. Her ungraceful entrance shatters the tableau. Cade jerks upright, scrubbing hastily at a face ravaged by weeping, and dredges up a smile that trembles around the edges.

“Hey, gorgeous, what’re you doin’ up so late?”

His voice wobbles almost precariously as Tessa herself does. Neither stops her. Up she clambers, a thirty-pound billy goat on a mission, and finally conquers the slippery slopes of Mount Dad. She buries her nose in his shirt, smells engine grease and copper wiring and the faintest whisper of her mother’s perfume, tries to immerse herself in it. Somewhere above her Cade makes a sound that’s not quite hard swallow, not quite sob. Strong arms curl tight around her, warm and solid and real after the waking nightmare of the past week, and Tessa burrows in like some small animal seeking shelter.

“It’s okay, papa.” 

Those three words- short and simple and wise beyond Tessa’s scant years- are enough to open the floodgates. Cade crumples like an empty aluminum can. His shoulders bow, his head drops, his arms tighten, and for a fleeting moment Tessa fears for him. Children have a way of hearing what they aren’t meant to. She heard her grandmother’s fussing, her uncle’s sighing, absorbed all the whispered worries that Cade wouldn’t outlive his late wife.

Then and there Tessa decides he has to. 

“I know, baby girl. We’ll both be okay. Promise.”

Two years pass before the shadows clear from Cade’s eyes, but in the end he keeps his promise.


	2. You're Gonna Go Far, Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tessa has an angry, Cade has a protective, and they collectively have a cuddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE I TOLD YOU THERE WOULD BE FLUFF. GO FORTH. ROLL IN IT. BE JOYOUS.
> 
> Thank you to each and every one of you who took the time to give this mess of mine kudos or a review. I legitimately got teary when I saw how many of y'all thought this fic was worth reading. Made my day. Continues to make my day. Yadda yadda superlatives go here.

Anyone who’s ever rented an apartment knows your first apartment is doomed to an undignified end. The Yeager family’s apartment is no exception to that rule. Once upon a time it held a rambunctious toddler, a sewing-obsessed mother and her gearhead husband. All that energy crammed under one roof left an indelible mark on their surroundings There’s stains on the carpet, nicks in the paint and a truly impressive amount of STUFF strewn across every available surface. It’s a comfortable cacophony by now, a chaos that Cade’s come to adore.

And now he’s got to shove it all in boxes for a move across the country.

This, Cade decides, is going to suck big fat donkey balls.

Still, he sets about it with a will. Stuff to get rid of is dragged out to the front room and sorted into piles, some for selling, some for donating, some to be thrown out ASAP. The ‘keeper’ pile, decidedly smaller than its ‘go away’ cousin, gets neatly tucked into the spare room to be dealt with at a later date. He’ll have to find boxes somewhere, and newspaper, and copious quantities of tape, but for now sorting will have to do.

Maybe he’ll even be able to get Tessa in on the ‘game’. It’s unlikely, of course, but a guy can dream.

He’s just set aside the latest garbage bag full of outgrown baby clothes and mismatched linens when the phone rings. Cade yelps, trips over another bag destined for the dumpster, damn near winds up face-planting on the cluttered floor. His cell’s on its fifth ring by the time he finds it jammed under yet another box awaiting disposal. (...and really, how the hell did it get there? It was in the caddy next to the front door last time he checked!)

“This’d better be important,” He grumbles, and punches ‘accept call’. 

“Hello, Mr. Yeager?” The voice on the other end of the line is high-pitched and nasally, like some asthmatic professor trying to admonish students at the far end of the hall. Cade takes an instant and admittedly irrational dislike to the speaker. No voice that irritating can be the bearer of good news.

“Uh- yeah, this is he. What can I do for you?”

Mr. Allergy Attack sniffs disdainfully. All at once Cade’s gut feeling is completely vindicated. “Mr. Yeager, this is Jacob Snelling at New Horizons. You need to pick your daughter up immediately.”

The bottom falls out of Cade’s stomach so hard and fast the downstairs neighbors likely hear it crash through their ceiling. Tessa. She’s been going to that high-brow New Horizons school for three months now. Erica’s parents had helped pick it out, helped pay for it, made sure their granddaughter got a better start in life than either of her parents did. Tessa herself’s been pretty ambivalent about the whole experience. She keeps insisting the other kids are weird. 

Then again, Tessa spends her weekend elbow-deep in the guts of any car she can get her hands on. Her idea of ‘normal’ might be a smidge skewed.

“Tessa? Is- what happened? Is she alright?”

Snelling sniffs again, louder and more haughtily this time. It’s exactly the wrong thing to say (or, rather, to not say) to a parent on the verge of sudden panic. 

“Yes, yes, she’s quite alright. She was involved in an... incident with another student.”

Cade juggles his cellphone, pins it between head and shoulder. His hands are shaking too hard to hold the damn thing anyway. He’s a parent. It’s his solemn duty to jump to the worst possible conclusions. Statements like Snelling’s just up the ante, especially when they dismiss his concerns out of hand. “What kind of ‘incident’ are we talking about here?”

“Mr. Yeager-” Whaddaya know, even more condescension. Somehow it comes as a dull surprise. “-your daughter attacked another student. She could have seriously harmed him.”

One sweaty hand freezes an inch above the doorknob. Attacked? Tessa? Try as he might Cade just can’t reconcile the two concepts. His daughter’s never been inclined to overt violence. It isn’t in her blood. It wasn’t part of her upbringing, either, but somehow he doubts Mr. Your Child Is A Problem Please Deal With Her wants to hear that.

“...you sure you’ve got the right kid, pal?” The words come just a smidge sharper than intended, edged with the faintest hint of the quiet outrage building in Cade’s gut. 

“Unfortunately.” It takes everything Cade’s got, but somehow he manages to not hurl his cell across the room. “Mr. Yeager, New Horizons does not tolerate acts of aggression between students. Your daughter’s teacher has already spoken to her. I suggest you come collect her and do the same.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m comin’.” The line goes dead right on cue, leaving Cade to glare daggers at his worn old flip-phone. 

When he grumbled about wanting a break from packing, this was most certainly not what he meant.

Fifteen minutes and a quick drive later Cade finds himself reliving high school all over again. The New Horizons campus is only a year old. It’s still polished to a near mirror finish, all clean lines and open spaces right out of an Ikea flier. It’s precisely nothing like the run-down wreck of a school Cade attended, but some sensations are universal. Taking the walk of shame to the principal’s office is one of them. Stubbornness and a certain rebellious pride make him straighten up and square his shoulders before pulling Snelling’s door open.

The man on the other side of the frosted glass is every bit as severe as the building’s ultramodern facade. He’s tall and thin and angular with the pasty complexion of a man more accustomed to fluorescent lights than sunshine. Dark glasses rim eyes the approximate color of glacial ice, currently snap-crackling with temper just barely held in check.

For one disorienting moment Cade feels small and weak and vulnerable, for all the world as if he were on trial rather than his daughter. Then Tessa’s escorted in, face red, jaw set, and Cade’s protective instincts light up like a fireworks display. He crosses the office in three long strides, kneeling to scoop Tessa into a tight hug. She hugs back just as fiercely, little hands fisting in her father’s shirt.

“Hey, kiddo,” Cade murmurs, planting a kiss on one curly temple, “What’s all this about?”

Snelling butts in before Tessa can so much as open her mouth. “Approximately half an hour ago your daughter physically assaulted another student.”

“He was hurting me,” Tessa shoots back, fixing the principal with a stare so venomous it’d do a cobra proud. Her vehemence seems to give Snelling pause. The beanpole of a man hesitates, straightening his tie with a fussiness that makes Cade want to swat his hands away. 

“Be that as it may, your actions were unacceptable.” Those cold eyes turn towards Cade now, brimming with what can only be called accusation. “Now, I don’t know where your daughter learned such behaviors, but they will not be tolerated in this institution. The two of you need to have a long discussion about manners and boundaries. After that I suggest the both of you look into anger management counseling.”

Something fierce and ugly jolts in Cade’s chest. He bites it back with an effort. Tessa’s in enough trouble without him proving Snelling’s accusations correct. Cathartic as screaming would be he restrains himself, shifts instead, tucking Tessa’s tense form more securely against his hip.

“Right. We’ll get right on that.” There’s no hiding the cynicism in his voice. Then again, Cade doesn’t exactly try terribly hard.

“See that you do,” Snelling sniffs, and once again Cade wars with the urge to rearrange the man’s sneering features. “Tessa will be suspended for the next ten days. If she has another... outburst like this one she’ll be expelled. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Somehow he makes the supposed show of respect sound like the foulest of epithets. Snelling knows it, too. He jerks back as if slapped, pale eyes narrowed in open dislike. The expression’s meant to intimidate. Alas, the expression’s rather lost on Cade. He cracks a grin that verges on feral even as he musses Tessa’s already-wild hair. 

“May we be excused?”

Snelling doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Jaw tight and hands fisted, the caricature of a man turns away. Cade does the same, double-timing it back down the hall, out the door and down the verge to the parking lot with Tessa in tow. Never once does she break her rather uncharacteristic silence. In fact, they’re halfway home before the six-year-old gathers the nerve to speak her mind. 

“...you’re mad at me, aren’t you.” It isn’t a question. That more than anything wrings Cade’s heart. Rules of the road be damned, he worms a hand free to search for Tessa’s, squeezing small fingers between his own. 

“I mean, I’m not thrilled that you hit some poor kid, but-”

“He deserved it.” Tessa’s voice fairly rings with conviction. Regret, on the other hand, is conspicuous only by its absence. They’ll have to talk about that someday, and about retribution, and about all the other complexities of human emotion, but for now Cade latches onto the easiest topic.

“And why’s that, baby doll?”

For a long moment Tessa is silent, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper- “He was talking about mommy. And... and how she’s not here.”

Guilt floods Cade’s gut. He hits his turn signal, takes the next exit, jams the car into park the moment he can. They’ve scarcely rolled to a stop before he reaches out and drags Tessa closer, for all the world as if a tight enough hug could drive away their sorrows. 

“You know he’s wrong, right?” Despite his best efforts Cade’s voice cracks. They’ve talked about Erica before, about her life and about her death, but the topic’s too painful to explore in any depth. Brilliant though she may be, Tessa’s still just six years old. The concept of life and death is still hard for her to grasp. So, for that matter, is the idea of difference.

That, unfortunately, is

“I know,” Tessa mumbles, and just this once Cade pretends not to notice her tears. God knows the poor thing’s earned a good cry. “But he- he was throwing sand at me, and laughing at me, and- and saying how I wasn’t good enough to have a mommy-”

“Hey, now.” One work-worn hand smooths down Tessa’s back, steady despite the tight coil of rage threatening to strangle him. Children are cruel. It’s a simple fact of nature, one that would’ve come back to haunt them sooner or later. He just wishes it hadn’t been now, or this. “That kid’s an idiot, alright? And you can tell him I said that if he starts acting up again.”

“But I’m not supposed to say that.” Sure enough there are tears on Tessa’s cheeks when she looks up to him, eyes red and nose running. The sight sends Cade searching for the little travel packet of tissues kept stashed in the glovebox for just such emergencies.

“You’re not supposed to hit people, either, but sometimes people deserve it.” It’s probably the exact opposite of what he ought to be saying, but he can’t bring himself to care. His glib flippancy makes Tessa smile, and though the expression’s weak and watery it’s genuine. 

“Tell you what, kiddo.” Tissue found, he dabs the moisture off Tessa’s face with as much delicacy as he can muster. “You shouldn’t’ve hit that little pest. I’ll cop to that. Try not to do it again, alright?” 

Tessa nods, solemn beyond her tender years. 

“...but if you just gotta hit someone, elbow ‘em instead of punching ‘em. It hurts you less and them more.”

Parenting is an uncertain art form, and one Cade’s having to learn on the job. But as Tessa’s tears turn into helpless giggles he can’t help but think he’s doing a halfway decent job of it.

...Though he might have to look into getting a punching bag somewhere down the line. Y'know. For anger management.

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter may or may not have gotten a bit sadder than anticipated. Following chapters will be happier, I swear! Next up: 'don't talk about my mother like that', ft. six-year-old Tessa's magnificent anger issues and ferocious right hook.


End file.
